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Ah, April! The time for love to blossom in the city of love and light. This kind of scene repeats itself often enough to remind us why Paris is such an icon of romanticism.

The sun came out today and began to warm things up. We were able to put the Eiffel Tower in its proper springtime context.

Okay, in the spirit of full disclosure, this tree is what is commonly referred to as an “early bloomer”. We found about three like this. The most common view of the Eiffel tower would look like this:

It was cold. Everyone was bundled up, as you can see. Maybe we’ll move Anita’s birthday before our next birthday trip. Or take our next trip on MY birthday.

But that didn’t keep people from coming out and enjoying the sunshine. This little tyke was celebrating his birthday with a well-stocked picnic and dedicated photographer.

One more Eiffel Tower photo before leaving Paris. Near the Alma bridge is a replica of the flame on The Statue of Liberty, placed there to memorialize Princess Diana, who died in a car accident nearby. And in case you’re wondering why the connection to Lady Liberty, remember that she is the work of the French Sculptor August Bartholdi.

Tomorrow we’re giving the striking transportation workers a chance to prove their worth, taking the high speed TGV train (a redundant term, I guess, since “TGV” means “high speed train”) to Avignon, where we rent a car and drive to Arles. Wish us luck.

The rain caught up with us today, so it was mostly an indoor day. But if beauty is important to you, Paris isn’t a bad place to be indoors. The only thing is, many of the indoor exhibitions are “no photos allowed” experiences. So we’ll dance around that as much as possible.

I started my day with jet lag. Having learned “reframing” from my life coach wife, I can tell you that jet lag has one very strong benefit–when you want to get up before dawn to take a sunrise picture, it’s no big deal because you’ve already been up for three hours anyway. I wanted a photo of the Louvre with a glorious sunrise coming up behind it, but taking outdoor photos, one is always at the mercy of the elements. One thing I did notice: there’s not a big crowd and precious little vehicular traffic at dawn.

Being here before spring really breaks out gives one a chance to see details not otherwise visible. For example, if you’ve seen many photos from Paris, you may have noticed the local penchant for trimming trees in a very rectangular shape. It’s not my intent to open a big debate over whether that’s good or bad, but I did notice the interesting multi-level structure visible when there are no leaves to get in the way. When I turned my back on the Louvre itself, I found this:

We waited for the rest of the civilized world to wake up and went to The Petit Palais for two exhibits-The Dutch in Paris and Pastels: from Degas to Redon. We specifically wanted to see the story of the Dutch masters in Paris because from here we go to Arles, where Vincent Van Gogh lived out his days after leaving Paris. Alas, no photos of the exhibit, but the grounds of the Petit Palais are lovely.

The entry door to the palace is crowned by a rendering of a ship tossed on a stormy sea, with the motto of the City of Paris. In Latin, it says Fluctuat nec Mergitur; the English translation is generally given as “Tossed by the waves but doesn’t sink.” Remember that the next time you read about terrorist attacks or transportation strikes or populist demonstrations here.

And from the Little Palace we go to the Royal Palace (Le Palais Royal), which for some time was the official residence of the kings of France. The original court of honor had been used as a parking lot until 1985, when a no-holds-barred artist named Daniel Buren converted it into “Les Deux Plateaux“, a multi-purpose installation that has, like much challenging art, generated more heat than light. The palace itself now serves as the home of the State Council, established by Napoleon Bonaparte in 1799 to advise the government, roughly equivalent to the National Security Council in the U.S.

According to the weather forecast, the rain has moved out for a while. Tomorrow we intend to spend the day in our original stomping grounds, the Montmartre district.

April in Paris–someone ought to write a song. But wait–someone did! Ella Fitzgerald and Louie Armstrong basically invited us to spend Anita’s birthday in Paris this month, and it only took us six trips to schedule it. So here we are. And to welcome us, the French weather service scheduled rain and the French transportation unions scheduled a train strike. But our continual great fortune held form. The rain hasn’t slowed us down, except for a few cloudy skies. The train strike is complicated, but suffice it to say that the one day we have a train scheduled is on a day when the trains are supposed to be running normally. We’ll find out Friday.

Our hotel is the same one we used last October, half a block from Place des Vosges. (If you click the link, notice the photo of the lobby. At this moment I’m sitting at the table under the tapestry on the far wall.) What I didn’t realize before today is that it’s only a block from Place Bastille, home of the new Paris Opera house, shown below. The old classic Garnier Opera House of Phantom of the Opera fame continues to host ballet, but the new one is where grand opera is staged.

The magnificent tower is relatively new, by Parisian standards. It replaced a giant wooden elephant, of all things. The main reason I mention this is that the musical Les Miserables is coming to UNM’s Popejoy Hall in May, and the elephant plays an interesting role in the original novel by Victor Hugo. It’s one of the few parts of the novel that didn’t make it to the modern stage. I won’t spoil your reading of the unabridged version by telling you the role it plays; just know that when Hugo wants to make you cry, you cry.

After our thirteen hour flight, we only had enough gas left in our tank to grab a sandwich and a pot of L’Africaine hot chocolate at Angelina’s Tea House before grabbing a bus back to our hotel. But to get to the bus stop we had to go through one of the nicest spots in Paris–the Tuileries Gardens. In the day of Louis XIII (think Three Musketeers), this was the royal strolling garden. The statuary is wonderful; here are a couple of samples. You can see that in the three hour space between my visit to Place Bastille and our stroll through the royal gardens, the sky had already cleared wonderfully. That’s just the way we roll!

And as we waited for our bus across the street from one wing of the Louvre, I noticed for the first time the exquisite detail on the outer wall:

So what’s in store this trip? A couple more days in Paris; a high-speed train to Avignon where we rent a car; five days in Arles on the Mediterranean coast, one of the oldest Roman settlements in France (all together now: “All Gaul is divided in three parts”–the opening sentence in Julius Caesar’s epic The Gallic Wars); a night in the tallest chateau in France; and opening night of the annual Chartres light show. Come along; it’ll be fun.

(Has it been over two months since I last posted? Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess.)

If you are at all interested in Paris and its best-known landmark, no doubt you have seen images drawn from this classic photographic record. I’m grateful someone had the presence of mind to set up a camera to record the event. Not being one to be outdone, today I decided it was my turn.

Last Christmas, my daughter bought me a model of the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, manufactured by ICONX. (And I’m utterly independent of them, with no compensation arising from this mention.) I had so much fun (does one really have fun assembling these things?) that I assembled a Millenium Falcon for my son’s housewarming. And seeing the Christmas-New Year holidays coming, I decided it was time for my project: build the Eiffel Tower and record the event. So here you go. Notice the American quarter coin in the final one; by my calculation, this model is scaled 1:2551.

It appears that I skipped Day Thirteen. No, I’m not triskadekaphobic; by the time we got back to the hotel in Paris, I was, to use a French term, épuisé, exhausted. After the four-hour drive from Beaune (by way of Dijon), Anita had celebrated with a victory lap on the Champs Elysées, which she had seen before as a window-shopper, but yesterday as a driver. The Arc de Triomphe is at one end at the center of a huge traffic circle with twelve boulevards leading into it. It has no lane markings, and simply constitutes a huge free-for-all. We learned later that French auto insurance companies consider it a no-fault zone. That is, accidents “just happen.” But we made it okay, got to the car return place just before closing, and got to our hotel just in time to crash into our beds.

Let us say of our hotel that the location is great. It is on Rue de la Huchette, just off the Seine south of Notre Dame, “two steps” from the famous St. Michel fountain and, most importantly for me, the Gibert Jeune bookstore complex. The street itself is a center for jazz clubs and eateries , and if you just think New Orleans Bourbon Street you’ll have a good image. But here’s mine (ours is the big red HOTEL sign):

I was afraid of the street noise keeping us up all night, but with the window closed and the air conditioner on (yes, air conditioner in late October–who knew?) we couldn’t hear a thing.

Today was shopping day. I headed off as early as possible to my own favorite bookstore, L’Ecume de Page. Today was release date for the latest issue in the Nicolas Le Floch series, the adventures of a fictional 18th century detective in special service to kings Louis XIV and XVI. This one brings us up to two years before the Revolution, and all the fans of this series are beginning to get nervous because we know (and Nicolas doesn’t) that heads are about to roll in France, and we’re very concerned about his welfare, since those in service to the king don’t fare too well in the Revolution.

Then Anita joined me and we went out for watercolor gear. Sennelier has been the source of first resort to the great painters of France since the late 19th century.

Having recently resumed her latent interest in watercolor, she decided she just had to have something from there.

You know about terrace cafes in Paris. I am one who thinks that some cafes take the concept just a little too far. This little Italian restaurant is a case in point.

On the way back to our hotel, we just happened across a place Anita had read about but forgotten to add to her must-see list, a little tea-house called Treize, the French for thirteen, which we often refer to as a “baker’s dozen.” When we opened the door, instead of the customary “bonjour” that always greets us, we heard “Y’all come on in.” The hostess is from South Carolina and one of the workers was a Texan wannabe. We felt right at home. So if you’re from the southern part of the U.S., and you want a little southern hospitality, give them a try, and tell them we sent you.

We’ve had a great trip, and we’re glad you could come along with us. Au revoir!

Beaune (pronounced “bone” for all you native English speakers) is at the center of the Burgundy region of France. This is the third and final stop of our wine country tour and is the icing on the cake, to use a non-wine related foodie term.

Before I tell you about Beaune, I have to brag on my wife/chauffeuse a little. A lot, actually. I told you already how she ended up as the sole authorized driver for our rental car. If you’ve never driven in a foreign country, you don’t really appreciate the challenges a driver faces with signage in a foreign language, different expectations of other drivers, and even different sized automobiles. Like much of Europe, the French generally drive smaller cars than we Americans do, and many of those are manual transmission. When the rental car clerk in Paris realized that we had to make a last-minute change in plans for who would be doing the driving, he offered to upgrade, at no extra cost to us, to a) an automatic transmission and b) a larger vehicle. The transmission was a good thing, but the size? Well, let’s just say that after a few days trying to park that vehicle, Anita christened it “The Beast”. That led me to the obvious extension of calling the combination of car and driver “Beauty and the Beast” and, since we are in France, “La Belle et La Bête”:

La Belle et La Bête

The background in that photo was actually a gift. We had a long drive today: five hours not counting stops for lunch and photos. It was going very predictably until we reached an area where the autoroute was under construction and we had to take a detour. Our previous experience with French detours wasn’t particularly confidence-inspiring, so we decided to entrust ourselves to Google Maps. The navigator (yours truly) failed in his duty and got us even further off course, and then we rounded a curve and saw this:

Burgundy hillsides

We parked there and just gaped for about ten minutes. Even though we had spent the previous few hours marveling at the beauty of the French farmland and countryside, this particular spot was just stunning.

We finally found our way into Beaune, and our timing couldn’t have been better. The main attraction for us was the Museum Hôtel-Dieu. It was only an hour before closing time and it was devoid of other tourists. There are several “Hôtel-Dieu” sites in France, but this was the first and the inspiration for all the others. In the middle of the 15th century, wealthy Frenchman Nicolas Rolin sought and received permission from the Church to establish a center for the care of the sick and infirm without expecting anything from them in return. It was to be self-sustaining, high quality, and operated to sustain both the physical and spiritual well-being of those who came there for care. This building is part of the result:

Hôtel-Dieu, Beaune

The name in French means “God’s Hostel”, and it operated in this facility from its opening in the mid-1400s until it was relocated in the mid-1900s. It is still self-sustaining, deriving its operating income from–what else?–its winery. The building you see here is now a museum, the hospital center itself being a new, modern facility that still operates without charge to its clientele.

From its beginning, the intent was to give the best possible care. The main infirmary illustrates this, with each of the 28 patients having a private space:

The main care center

There was a nice chapel at the far end of this room, and on the near end there is a window on the second floor where a nun could keep watch on the room to make sure no one went unattended no matter what hour of the day or night.

Tomorrow we are back to Paris to wrap up this trip. The wine tour is done, but there may be something in Paris worth writing about, so check back again.

Three years ago, on our first road trip in France,,we somehow failed to find old Sarlat. This time we were determined, so we scheduled a night there between Bordeaux country and Burgundy country. But we had to get from one place to the other, and therein lies the joy of travel the way Anita and I do it.

Near Bordeaux is Saint-Emilion, a historic wine center in the Bordeaux region. This was a Sunday and our timing didn’t allow a leisurely exploration of the town and its many wine chateaux, but a cemetery caught our eye. Anita pulled into a newly plowed field and let me explore the cemetery on my own. I think if I lived in Saint Emilion, I’d have to get chummy with this family:

Cemetery near Saint Emilion

When someone is buried here, family, friends, and business associates leave remembrances not just in perishables like flowers, but in permanent items, like tiles engraved with warm thoughts. This family was clearly beloved by many.

Our GPS navigation system gave us options for how to route: fastest, most direct, ferries or not; that sort of thing. Fastest usually maximized autoroutes (think interstate highways), but those are rarely the most interesting. Now THIS is interesting:

Route to Domme

You learn to trust your technology on a road like that. But in return, you get this:

Dordogne Valley farmland

We stopped off for a nostalgic visit to Domme, just across the Dordogne river from Sarlat, having spent a couple of nights there three years ago. It’s a “perched village”, and from this perch, you get a spectacular view of the Dordogne valley:

Dordogne Valley, as seen from Domme

We did finally get to Sarlat, and as usual Anita had done an excellent job of choosing our lodgings. We were a five minute walk from the iconic statue of the the three geese, representing one of the regional culinary specialties, foie gras.

The Geese of Sarlat

After a leisurely stroll and a small amount of shopping, we had dinner at Le Moulin du Roy (The King’s Mill), nestled in a small corner among buildings dating back to the 13th century. It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it. Tomorrow is the longest drive of the trip, five hours to the heart of Burgundy, so today we’re in bed early.